The Marshal in Dodge
by lostcowgirl
Summary: No youth could ask for a better 16th birthday than a trip to Dodge to meet his idol Matt Dillon. Trent Wellington got more than that when his pop came west to audit new Adams Express manager Nathan Burke's books.
1. Chapter 1 A Trip West

Chapter 1 – A Trip West

Wyatt Wellington knew accounting. That's why he currently served as the chief accountant for Adams Express with only the company's comptroller above him. Usually Wyatt would send an underling to a frontier town like Dodge City, Kansas but they were all already on assignment. Still, someone had to visit the office in Dodge. The new manager Nathan Burke had been running the office for nigh on to six months without a thorough audit of his business practices. Wyatt made plans. While he was gone his wife Ellen and newly wed, expectant daughter Laura would stay in Laura's home with her husband Stewart Granger to await the birth. The only servants the small, yet well-appointed household employed, a capable husband and wife team, would remain during his absence. His and Ellen's son Trent would accompany him.

Wellington was satisfied. All was arranged for the nearly 900-mile trip from Chicago. The company expense account paid for his round trip train fare, lodging at The Dodge House for three nights and food for the duration. Wellington willingly paid the additional costs for Trent. He felt the experience would render the expenditure worthwhile. He was certain witnessing the drudgery of life in a frontier cow town would dispel the boy's childishly romantic notions of life out west that he'd picked up from reading those dreadful dime novels. At the very least he'd disabuse Trent of the image he held of Matt Dillon, US Marshal, if the man existed at all outside those dreadful novels.

"Pop, this is great!" Trent enthused as they took their seats aboard the express train to Kansas City. "I can't wait 'till we get to the real west. How long you think it will take?"

"Let's see, son," Wyatt mused as he quickly calculated the answer. "It's about 12 hours, even though we're making very few stops. We'll have time for a late supper in Kansas City before we transfer to the Santa Fe train through Wichita to Dodge City. If all goes we'll arrive tomorrow evening."

"I reckon I'll get some readin' done while its still light then. Tomorrow's soon enough to maybe spot outlaws or Indians between Wichita and Dodge."

"Son, you're nearly 16. It's time you quit reading dime novels and started thinking about earning a living," his father stated, grabbing Trent's copy of _Marshal Dillon and the Outlaw Siege_."

Trent managed to wrest the book from his father so he could continue reading while the light lasted. He knew his dad had it all wrong. These stories came as close as he'd get to his gaining whatever knowledge he needed to pursue the career he dreamed about. It may not be the sort of job his father hoped he'd pursue, but this trip could start him on the path toward really learning the necessary skills. When they arrived in Dodge City he'd use the birthday money from his grandparents to buy a six-gun and gun belt. He'd then find somewhere to practice his aim and fast draw while the old man was busy going over the local Adams Express office ledgers.

Wyatt Wellington sighed as his son alternated between reading and observing the passing scenery while he used the time to scan the monthly reports Burke provided. There was hope this trip would help the boy reach a proper level of maturity. Trent was willing to try. He did everything expected of an Adams Express office boy after Wyatt got him the position. Father and son despite differences in temperament mostly got on well. They actually talked with each other in more than single syllables. He grinned at the lad when they became hungry and between them downed the roast beef sandwiches and cookies Ellen had packed. The food from home went down smoothly thanks to the lemonade Wyatt managed to buy in Independence.

The express reached the Missouri side of Kansas City at dusk. The Wellingtons picked up their carpetbags, Wyatt's valise and the satchel with their remaining food after exiting the train. They made their way cautiously in the unfamiliar small city toward its heart for a much needed meal. An hour later they boarded the Santa Fe train. Alas, Trent failed to spot a single outlaw or Indian between Wichita and their destination.

Long, boring, overnight train rides tire a body out. They were tired and hungry when the two travelers stepped onto the dusty streets of Dodge. Feeling totally lost they nevertheless chose to walk to the supposedly best hotel in town where Mr. Burke had reserved a room with two beds for them rather than hire a carriage. Their city honed habits proved unexpectedly utile in the surprisingly crowded main thoroughfare. The pair were nearly run down by an unruly cowboy about Trent's age who decided to ride his horse onto and across the boardwalk that served as a pedestrian walkway straight through the swinging doors of a saloon that bore the name Bull's Head on its window.

Unharmed, the Wellingtons continued on toward the Dodge House. Wyatt was annoyed. Trent was thrilled. The horse stood poised to enter the saloon. A scraggly bewhiskered man with a gun at his hip and a star on his chest announced his approach with a jangling of the large spurs he wore. Curious as to how this breach of common sense and propriety would be handled, both turned to watch him confront the cowboy, still astride his horse.

"Even this place don't allow no horses inside, Sonny," the man said resting his right hand on his sidearm.

"My horse has a thirst too. That gun of yours won't stop us. We're from Texas!"

"Yer drunker than I thought. Climb down an' give me yer gun. 'Fraid I'll have ta lock yah up fer the night."

Trent was so fascinated by the drama playing out in front of him that he failed to notice his father had turned back in the direction they'd been going and was several feet beyond him. When the cowboy didn't obey the scruffy man reached out with his left hand to grab the cowboy's left leg and pull him off his horse while the lad went for his pistol. It was just like in his books. Before the young drover could react the lawman unhorsed him, disarmed him while he was off balance and was now shoving him toward the jail. The excitement over, Trent turned to catch up with his father.

The rest of the evening was mostly quiet. Some loud singing and even a couple of gunshots outside disturbed their supper in a second rate restaurant by Chicago standards the hotel clerk Mr. Uzzel said was the best in town. In short order their meal eaten, the weary travelers left Delmonico's for their second floor hotel room. Trent drifted off to sleep his head filled with exploring the town, starting with the jailhouse. Perhaps that deputy would be willing to talk with him. If he were lucky, Marshal Dillon would be there.


	2. Chapter 2 First Day in Dodge

Chapter 2 – First Day in Dodge

AN: Thanks to the well-mannered guests & others I can't contact personally. Of course Kitty has her part to play & she'll have some wise advice to contribute. Grace & anyone else curious about it: This story's set at the start of Season 12, the first color season. Finally, a historic note: The Comique, a building behind the Lady Gay, featured Bat Masterson as one of the owners and was where Eddie Foy actually played as part of his regular circuit.

Wyatt wondered as he and Trent ate breakfast in the hotel dining room how his son would occupy himself while he worked in Nathan Burke's office. Thinking the lad, now casually dressed in workingman's trousers and shirt, wouldn't stand out so much if he dressed more like the locals, he walked with him to the general store when they'd eaten their fill. Besides, Wyatt thought as they moseyed along the boardwalk, the proprietor might recommend a place to rent a gentle horse for a boy who'd only been on horseback a few times. Maybe a stable boy could ride with him to a nearby fishing hole. Exploring the town couldn't take more than an hour without making friends. The Wellingtons left Mr. Jonas' shop with a hat, a fishing pole and tackle box and directions to Moss Grimmick's stable.

He may have wanted Trent to fit in, but Wyatt Wellington felt no need to do the same. He remained dressed as any respectable accountant in Chicago would. The two presented quite the contrast as they approached the freight office where Nathan Burke waited by his open door. After a hasty introduction father and son parted ways. Wyatt and Burke got down to business inside, leaving the boy to find his own way to the stables. Trent happily strolled down Front Street, his new hat perched on his head and fishing gear tucked under his arm, toward the jailhouse.

"Um, hello sir. My pop and I saw you arrest that cowboy trying to ride his horse into the saloon last night. He almost ran us down, but you acted like it was just somethin' that happens all the time. By the way, I'm Trent Wellington from Chicago."

"Festus Haggen. Sorry fer the welcome you an' yer pa got last night."

"Please don't apologize, uh Deputy Haggen," Trent replied, reading the badge on the scruffy man's chest. "Seeing what you did makes my 16th birthday even more special. 'Course it would be absolutely the best if I could meet Marshal Dillon. Think he might be at the stable?"

"Sorry ta disappoint yah. Matthew's in Meade fer a trial. I wisht I could go fishin' with yah," Festus moaned spotting the store-bought gear Trent carried. "Dave, over by Moss Grimmick's stable might jist be able ta git away fer a spell. Ask him when yah git there."

Dave Caldwell greeted Trent warmly. The occupied stalls were mucked out. He was free until late afternoon when the cowboys with the herds camped along the Arkansas River outside town were expected to arrive. An extra fishing companion with stories to tell of life outside Dodge would be great. Just then Charlie Smith poked his head inside the open doorway. Although it was still morning, Mr. Jonas had let him leave the store. Dave saddled three horses, stowed the fishing gear in the rifle boots and introduced Trent to the gentle mare reserved for dudes. They rode out to a favorite fishing hole along the riverbank. With luck the three boys would eat a late lunch of fried catfish cooked in the pan Dave packed in his saddlebags along with a couple of plates, utensils and seasoning.

"I don't get much chance to fish or ride back home in Chicago. I'm sure glad you fellas were willing to show me your special fishing hole," Trent offered as he watched Dave cook the fish they'd just cleaned.

"Glad to," Dave replied while placing fish on three plates.

"How you like Dodge?" Charlie asked. "If you'll be around for the barn dance Saturday night we'll introduce you to some pretty girls. Sorry we can't show you around tonight, but those Texas cowboys will keep us mighty busy."

"That's okay. I won't be alone. Pop will be finished with Mr. Burke by seven. I don't know what we'll do tonight, but he's taking me to the most respectable saloon in town for a beer to celebrate my 16th birthday tomorrow. Maybe we'll see each other then."

"Happy birthday. It would be fun to help you celebrate turnin' 16 like Charlie did for me a couple months ago and I'll do for him in November. It's too bad work has to come first. You got a job back home?"

"Yeah, runnin' errands and such for Mr. Tremont a bigwig at Adams Express. It wouldn't be so bad doin' the same for Mr. Burke 'cause it's here. It would be so much more excitin'. At least I can go to the dance unless we're on the Friday afternoon train east."

The three boys reluctantly gathered everything they'd brought and any uneaten fish. Their horses, contentedly grazing, had no objection to being saddled and turned toward their home stalls for maybe a bit of grain. Once the horses were seen to, Dave and Charlie divided the remaining fish between them before all three left the stable. The local lads split off to present fresh, already cleaned catfish for their mothers to cook for supper. Their city friend watched them walk away toward the residential streets. Trent, again on his own, strolled down Front Street to the general store to make his secret purchase. He'd just barely hidden the Colt revolver and gun belt he'd bought in the bottom of the armoire when his father entered their room.

"Let's get supper. You fill me in on your day and I'll tell you about the fun evening I've planned while we eat. I believe Eddie Foy's playing at the Comique. It's the local theater."


	3. Chapter 3 It's Not Like Back East

Chapter 3 – It's Not Like Back East

AN: Again thanks to those I can't contact directly. To the Well-mannered Guest: I minored in Post Civil War American History as an undergrad & continue to be fascinated by the history of the Wild West.

Wyatt Wellington lay on his hotel bed, thinking. Was he doing right by his son? Trent had found a couple of local lads who seemed responsible without being stodgy. He could learn from them. Isn't that part of what he'd hoped the boy would gain from their trip? Fun comes when there's a lull in work. It's why he took him to see the entertainer Eddie Foy when the opportunity presented itself. If he came away with nothing more than work, while the most important part of life needs to be balanced with fun, bringing him to Dodge could be entered on the positive side of the paternal ledger. On the other hand, he couldn't help but think the balance sheet still favored rather than dispelled Trent's childish fantasies. Last night when the peace officer arrested the drunken cowboy, a lad perhaps not even 15, and Burke's explanation of losses incurred in the short time he'd been the local manager tilted toward the validity of at least some of the youth's notions.

Wyatt let his mind drift among imaginary ledgers confirming and denying his and Trent's preconceived versions of life in Dodge City until he fell asleep. He awoke with the sun in his eyes and a firm determination to complete Trent's birthday arrangements that began when they left Chicago on this attempt to bring father and nearly adult son to a closer understanding of one another. He hoped he could arrange his surprise, a clear step marking a boy's entrance into manhood, at the best saloon and not a less reputable forum for drinking and fornicating like the Bull's Head or Lady Gay. According to Burke the Long Branch was respectable enough for local businessmen and clean in all ways thanks in large part to the woman who owned it, a Miss Kitty Russell.

The father didn't share those thoughts with his son while they remained together that morning. Wyatt went back to the ostensible reason for being in this unpolished town to again cloister himself with Nathan Burke's Adams Express records. Trent rented the same bay mare from yesterday, but unlike the then he rode off to explore the countryside alone. The vast prairie surrounding Dodge City became a place to practice riding. In his travels he saw cowhands at work and a glimpsed the life soldiers lead at Fort Dodge. Wyatt, when he took an early afternoon break from auditing was glad the boy wasn't nearby. He stretched his legs and eased his weary eyes by sauntering to the Long Branch where he approached a comely redhead, who'd been pointed out to him earlier, sitting at a table in her establishment reading the local newspaper.

"Miss Russell, I wonder if I could have a moment of your time? It would be very much appreciated."

"Certainly. What can I do for you? Mr.?"

"Wellington, Wyatt Wellington. My son and I arrived the other evening on the Santa Fe. I have business with Nathan Burke. He recommended your establishment and its accommodating owner."

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Wellington. What did Burke say I might do for you?"

"Not for me, for my son. Today's his 16th birthday. May I buy you a beer while we talk?"

"Sam, a couple of beers. I'd be happy to host his party. Has he met anyone his age to invite? Would you like a cake?" Kitty asked as Sam set down two filled beer mugs in exchange for a couple of coins.

"Thank you. I wasn't expecting such largesse," Wyatt continued as Sam headed back to the bar. "Perhaps Dave Caldwell and Charlie Smith, two boys he went riding and fishing with yesterday, can sit at our reserved table with Mr. Burke if their fathers don't object and they don't have to work. Please join us. It's the least I can offer after all your kindness. One more thing, I was hoping you'd provide an away from home coming of age gift. I want to engage an experienced woman to show him the basics so he won't be completely at a loss on his wedding night like I was when I married his mother."

"Mr. Wellington, I'm willing to do a lot of things as a successful owner of a business catering to and usually run by men. However, bedding naïve boys isn't one of them!" Kitty replied, growing angry.

"I do apologize Miss Russell. I wasn't implying you take him to your bed," although his red face betrayed the lie. "I thought perhaps one of the young ladies who works here might be willing to provide the service in one of your upstairs rooms at whatever price she names."

"Apology accepted," Kitty stated as one of her girls, a pretty blond who'd just turned 20 and would bed men so she'd have extra cash to send her widowed mother back on the farm, came downstairs with a satisfied Texas cowboy. "Holly, Mr. Wellington here has something in mind that might interest you. If you agree, you and his son can use room 7. The rest of his birthday celebration will be at their table."

Kitty set up a corner table that evening for the birthday boy and friends. Both Dave and Charlie were given the evening off despite 50 Texas cowboys converging on the Long Branch and other businesses around town. Moss and Hank Miller took care of the stable while Wilbur Jonas' new partner Woody Lathrop dealt with the general store customers. Holly sat half on her chair and half on Trent's knee causing both Wyatt Wellington and Burke to smirk, each for his own reasons.

The men consumed a bottle of whiskey while the three boys and Holly were on their second pitcher of beer before Kitty finally had a chance to bring out the cake. It didn't take long for the cake to disappear along with a third pitcher of beer. The already drunk Texans decided they were just as entitled as the birthday boy to cake and the girl on his knee and whatever remained in the second whiskey bottle. They pawed at Holly in an attempt to pry her away. Sam, Kitty's tall cragged-faced chief bartender, blocked their efforts long enough for the girl to lead Trent upstairs. The cowboys sought other sources of fun. After that it didn't take Dave and Charlie long to drift off as well. Burke, who spotted his friend Halligan at the bar, dragged Wyatt over to meet him. One party was over.

Fifteen minutes later Trent and Holly stood on the balcony watching three groups of ten drovers shouting and shoving each other with increasing ferocity. Festus, expecting trouble, stood ready next to Kitty at the bar. Sam came around the bar to flank her other side. Meanwhile, Thad Greenwood, the tall youngster from a small town in Oklahoma, remained at the jail where Festus assigned him to looking after the drunks already locked in the cells. Festus breathed a premature sigh of relief as the antagonists, all from Three Forks, Bar K and Lazy S, turned and strode apart. As if a silent signal alerted them, within seconds the brawlers turned as one to face each other, firing their six guns in all directions.


	4. Chapter 4 Shootout

Chapter 4 – Shootout

AN: Grace, Matt makes his appearance in Chapter 5. Again thanks to all I can't thank personally for your reviews.

Trent Wellington thought his father gave him the best present yet, even better than bringing him to Dodge City. As they left the upstairs room he kept his arm around the waist of the young woman who'd shown him what a man needed to know. He'd never experienced anything so thrilling in all his 16 years like the previous 15 minutes. It far exceeded seeing Deputy Haggen deal with that drunken cowboy. It even topped sharing with his new friends everything else his father paid for this evening - his first pitchers of beer at the birthday party, complete with cake, Miss Russell, the saloon's owner, threw him.

The teen and young woman barely reached the landing when angrily shouted accusations and the crash of broken glass and furniture assaulted their ears. Trent pulled Holly toward the railing so they could watch the scene unfolding below them without being seen. She clung closer to her companion as, following a short lull, three antagonistic groups of cowboys simultaneously drew their pistols to begin firing at each other and anyone else with the bad luck to be within range of the flying lead.

The barrage of bullets lasted less than a minute, a hidden signal stopping the melee as suddenly as it began. The relatively healthy among the combatants and spectators moved as one to return to their original spots at tables or the bar as if the carnage was part of an elaborate stage play. Only, once the smoke dissipated to reveal a bloody battlefield of dead and wounded, it proved all too real. Gradually, those who were still able sneaked off one at a time or in small groups, as if they were never there. It didn't matter anyhow. Marshal Dillon was elsewhere. His fulltime deputy lay slumped over by the bar, having been caught in the crossfire while his tall, young part-time assistant had his hands full in the jailhouse babysitting the drunks sleeping it off in the cells.

"C'mon Holly, I've got to find my pop. Looks like the gunplay's over," Trent said as he roused himself from the hypnotic effect of the panorama that had played out before them.

"I'll stay up here until I'm sure it's safe, but you go ahead," Holly replied, not quite able to shake off her fear. "Once Doc and Thad get here I'll do what I can to help."

Trent reluctantly let go of her hand to descend the stairs alone. He reached the surprisingly still upright table but only a pile of birthday cake crumbs and empty pitchers, bottles and glasses remained. There was no sign of his father, Mr. Burke or anyone else who'd occupied the table. He looked nervously around for any sign of them, his worry increasing with each passing second. Then a head topped by a derby poked out from under a table halfway across the room followed by the rest of his father. Boy and man waded through the scattered bodies toward each other to embrace in relief, Holly forgotten for now.

Glad neither was hurt the visitors from Chicago visitors surveyed their surroundings. They barely noticed a short elderly man shuffle through the batwing doors, a black bag in one hand, and cross the room to the bar. Their eyes were focused on the tall cragged-faced bartender's attempt to rise to his feet seemingly impeded by Deputy Haggen. Trent, excitement welling up inside, pulled his father along until they were close enough to hear what the deputy, barkeep and old man were saying.

"Festus, get out of the way, you clumsy oaf," the short, gray-haired man growled as the deputy stumbled in his attempt to rise. "You're in Sam's way. If you don't', you just might crush Kitty!"

"Doc, don't be so hard on Festus. Both of them could have been killed protecting me," Kitty exclaimed rising to her feet once her two heroes could brace against the bar to keep them semi-upright.

"That's tellin' the ol' scutter what fer, Mz Kitty," Festus managed to quip while attempting to hide a bleeding right shoulder. "Matthew would never forgive Sam an' me if'n we hadn't a been here ta keep them bullets from yah. It's nothin' but a scratch, yah quackety-quack," he added to annoy the doctor.

"Oh, pshaw. Sit down before you fall down, Festus. You too, Sam!" Doc added as Sam made a feeble attempt to stand without aid. "Kitty, get one or two uninjured regulars to fetch as many clean bandages from my office and from your girls' petticoats as they can carry while you boil water so I can sterilize my instruments. There's far too many needing immediate treatment. I declare the Long Branch a hospital."

With that pronouncement, the Wellingtons joined the other recruits helping to arrange chairs and tables so the crotchety physician could examine his plethora of patients. Eight men, six of them Texans, and one of Kitty's girls were dead. Alas, Moss Grimmick and Wilbur Jonas were the other two. Doc didn't relish having to tell their wives. However, with Matt still out of town, it fell to him. That would come later. Making use of what he had in his medical bag, he set about the task of saving, with Kitty's help, those he could, whether they were transients or local citizens.

In a show of solidarity the able-bodied kept Doc supplied with all the medicines and tools he needed. They gathered cots for those who couldn't simply be patched up and sent on their way. Not all the wounded accepted the situation as graciously. Many complained they were being ignored because were more favored. Burke groused when Doc, after applying four stitches to his upper left arm, sent him home to rest rather than to one of the few available cots. The freight office manager believed he was more deserving than his more seriously wounded friend Halligan. Sam and Festus by contrast belittled their wounds. Now that the bullets were removed they lay semi-conscious on two of those cots.

Thad Greenwood locked the jailhouse before racing down the street toward what sounded like a warzone to burst upon a chaotic scene when he stepped through the batwing doors to assert his authority. Maybe his six-foot four inch height or simply that young as he was he was the only representative of the law available caused the men and girls milling around in the saloon to heed him when he spoke.

"Holly," he said spotting the blond saloon girl who hadn't moved from her spot on the balcony. "See if anyone's in the upstairs rooms. If they are, bring them downstairs with you if they're able."

Doc and Kitty were still treating the severely wounded when Thad began asking how the whole mess started. He didn't get as far as he hoped with those still in the saloon and able to talk. All Thad learned from the Texas cowboys, gamblers, drifters, locals and two respectable visitors seeking entertainment still in the Long Branch was that the Three Forks, Bar K & Lazy S drovers began the melee that as if on cue escalated from punches and kicks to bullets flying in all directions leaving the dead and injured for Doc and Kitty and Thad to deal with.


	5. Chapter 5 Homecoming

Chapter 5 – Homecoming

AN: Well Mannered Guest, I chose Moss & Mr. Jonas as 2 recognizable citizens to die because they weren't seen from Season 12 on.

Trent and Wyatt Wellington awoke to a hot, dry morning. Outside their hotel window Dodge baked under a pastel blue cloudless sky. The street scene playing out below them could have been in any small town in summer except an exceptionally high number of townspeople congregated in front of a business labeled Percy Crump, Cabinetmaker and Undertaker. Additionally, a steady stream, including women who ordinarily wouldn't deign to talk to even the most respectable purveyor of drink, paraded back and forth between the undertaker and the classiest saloon in town, the Long Branch.

"Trent, you might spend time with your new friends while I go over more of Mr. Burke's books. I understand he wasn't badly hurt so he'll be available enough for my work."

"Well Pop, Dave and Charlie ain't available at all. They were both wounded last night and sent home to rest. Besides, I'd rather be alone. You gotta understand I need to sort everything out. Reckon, if I can, I'll rent that same horse and ride off to that quiet spot I found by the river yesterday."

Father and son zigzagged through the throngs of people, choosing a very crowded Delmonico's over a completely deserted hotel dining room for their breakfast. At least the restaurant wasn't as gloomy. A very harried Thad joined them at the only available table, the worst in the establishment on ordinary days. Today, buffeted by the waiter racing about with orders and overwhelmed by heat pouring from the adjacent kitchen doorway, the Wellingtons and the young representative of local law ate their meal.

"Do either of you recall anything you didn't tell me last night? I need to gather as much information as possible for the marshal. With what I've got so far I'm not sure even he can sort it all out."

Wyatt shook his head, but Trent remembered something he more heard than saw when he and Holly reached the balcony. It might not help, but it could mean actually meeting Mr. Dillon.

"When Holly and I approached the railing I heard someone barroom shout 'You Three Forks and Lazy S boys can't push us Bar K drovers around. We're from Texas too!' It was right afterwards that the brawling stopped. Almost immediately everyone started shooting."

"Thanks. You're not planning on leaving town are you? Marshal Dillon will want to hear this."

"We're staying another couple days at least, right Pop," an elated Trent enthused. "Thad," he continued after a nod from his father. "Though you're no more than five or six years older than me, I'm impressed with how you've handled being in charge. I reckon it comes with growing up on the frontier."

Unbeknownst to the trio seated at that Delmonico's table Thad's time as chief lawman was nearly up. Matt Dillon, the Meade trial over, was headed home. Matt hoped to find Dodge still standing after being overrun by more than 10,000 head of easily spooked Texas longhorns and the even edgier drovers who'd spent three months pushing them 900 miles north to sell. Despite his worry, he didn't give into the urge to gallop the last five miles, but kept his buckskin to a steady lope until he heard shots ring out. Two miles from town, he located the source in a clearing 100 yards further on and stopped.

Matt wrapped Buck's reins around a low branch of an oak. He expected to see a couple cowboys settling their differences. Instead, moving stealthily through the stand of trees, he spotted a boy of about 16 trying to hit a set of six cans and bottles perched on a log 30 feet in front of him while drawing his revolver as quickly as possible. He smiled, thinking about himself at the same age.

"Not bad for a beginner," he shouted as he emerged from the shelter of the trees. "You'll get good in time, but why?" Matt added as the lad reset his targets and stepped back to reload. Before the boy could do more the tall lawman drew, fired and hit all five squarely, seemingly without aiming, in six seconds.

"I bought this gun with my birthday money to see if I could become as fast and accurate as the men I read about and show my pop before we go back to Chicago it's possible to shoot like in those dime novels, men like Dodge City's marshal," he replied in answer to the newcomer's question. "You make it look easy, mister. Until I came out here for the first time yesterday I didn't realize how hard it is."

"Son," he told the awed youngster. "Not much in those books is true, either about me or keeping the peace. Matt Dillon," he said by way of introduction, extending his hand. "Who are you?"

"I'm Trent Wellington," the lad replied, eagerly grasping the proffered hand. "You're bigger than I expected but I'm sure even you'd be hard pressed to handle the scary scene in the Long Branch last night. You'd need to be twice as good as you are in my books."

"Is she alright?" Matt blurted out as he imagined the utter devastation brought upon the saloon and its owner at the hands of Texans from three antagonistic large Texas outfits. "What exactly happened?" he asked stopping himself from rushing off without waiting for an answer.

"If by she you mean Miss Russell, she's fine. Her bartender, I think his name's Sam, and Deputy Haggen were both among the badly wounded. They were shot protecting her. I can tell you all I know if you'll allow me to ride along side you. I can't say the same for a lot of other people. The Long Branch is damaged but still standing."

As they rode the rest of the way into Dodge in the early afternoon sunshine Trent filled Matt in on the brawl and gunfight. The road wasn't empty. Riders dragging horses with bodies draped across their saddles away from town toward three camps passed them at barely above a walk. This funeral procession provided further proof of the toll taken by the previous night's melee. Matt counted a minimum seven dead, at least two from each outfit, proof this was no minor shootout.

The sight that greeted him as they rode down Front Street didn't ease his mind. Dodge City was in mourning. He caught a glimpse of Doc rushing from the Long Branch across the alley toward the stairs to his office, but most of those on the street were shuffling toward the church behind four coffins. Who else among those he'd sworn to protect died besides Moss and Jonas? The hairs on the back of Matt's neck rose. Sensing the maiming and killing wasn't over, he braced himself to face the worst Saturday night since Mace Gore hit town nearly a year ago.


	6. Chapter 6 Prelude to a Showdown

Chapter 6 – Prelude to a Showdown

AN: Again thanks those I can't thank personally. Ms. Well Mannered Guest, perhaps your comment about time paradoxes could be the basis of a SF story for me or another fan of that genre to write.

Hoyt Holden, owner and trail boss of the Bar K, strode from the Lady Gay as Lyle Krieg his counterpart at the Lazy S crossed Front Street toward it and Kin Talley, the Three Forks boss returning to Dodge after a lengthy absence, exited the Bull's Head. Matt Dillon, riding down Front Street toward the stable with Trent Wellington, watched the three trail bosses exchange a silent yet definite message. Before the men could take another stride toward their individual destinations Matt, still astride Buck, blocked their path. He stepped down as first Talley, then the other two, turned to face him.

"There's too many of us, Marshal. Besides, Kansas law still means nothin' to Texans."

"Yeah, Talley. I get it. I'm still gonna stop you from shootin' up my town and making light of murder."

"We'll see, Dillon. For now be content that I let your sawbones near the dead and dying after yesterday evening's ruckus that forced an early closing of that fetchin' redhead's saloon."

"Thanks for small favors," Matt glowered momentarily before making the snide comment. "You three in my office. "Now!" he snapped, eyeballing each trail boss in turn. "The rest of you, move along."

A nod from their bosses to heed the marshal's orders sent the cowboys scampering after the citizens. Trent took Buck's reins from the fully in control lawman without needing to be explicitly told to take him to the stable while a leveled Peacemaker convinced Talley, Krieg and Holden to precede the local law inside the brick building. Thad jumped up from where he'd been sitting with his feet up on Matt's desk. Surprise aside, he promptly obeyed his part-time boss' instructions to release any prisoners and tell Kitty he wanted to see her in his office, but if she couldn't come immediately to expect him in hers.

Less than five minutes later four men were seated around the table in the middle of Matt's office deep in conversation in the otherwise empty jailhouse. Having completed his assigned chore, Trent Wellington positioned himself outside the marshal's office by an open window where he could both see and hear the goings on inside. He hoped his attempt to learn first hand his idol's methods wasn't too conspicuous. It hardly mattered. While he focused on the increasingly loud conversation leaking through the window everyone else was too occupied with death and dying and making money to notice him.

Kitty hardly glanced at Trent when she passed him on her way to the door intent on complying with the summons Thad relayed. She entered Matt's office to a cacophony that was only a cat's whisker away from a brawl or worse. Gunfight or not, her cowboy was caught in the middle. She didn't bother to knock. She simply threw it open to let it slam loudly against the wall and marched straight to the table, causing all four men to stop their argument and rise. The three Texans overcame their surprise to sit back down while Matt fetched the spare chair next to his desk. Always the gentleman, Matt held the chair for her long enough for her to sit before resuming his own adjacent seat across from Talley.

"Looks like I got here just in time," she began without missing a beat. "Matt needs to know just where things stand. You three feel free to add anything you think I've left out," she added. "Just don't forget a lady's present. Even Texans are capable of courtesy when sober."

Kitty in as much detail as she felt necessary filled Matt in on everything she'd seen and heard. When she finished each trail boss added his version of the previous day's increasingly violent altercations, voicing her objections whenever their version contradicted what she knew to be true. Matt tried not to let his frustration and annoyance show at each man's attempt to justify his actions.

"If you have proof of what you're accusing each other of produce it now," Matt, now straddling rather than sitting in his chair, stated. "Failing that, at least pay Kitty for damages and lost business and keep your men in line until you're ready to go back to Texas."

"What's between me, Holden and Krieg is Texas business. It ain't yours or your girlfriend's."

Matt held his temper while continuing negotiations. Deciding laying out money beat jail time, Holden and Krieg each offered Kitty a wad of bills to pay for damages. She smiled at their generosity.

"Here's my proposition. I'll fork over my money if you're friendlier than last time, Red and your protector don't interfere," Talley responded with a sneer. "How much you chargin' these days?"

"Apologize and pay up like your two pals," Matt growled through gritted teeth as he placed a hand on a seething Kitty's shoulder to keep her from flying at Talley. "Otherwise you'll face more than a headache after a night in jail. Being drunk won't cut it this time."

"Dillon, ain't you learned nothin' in nine years? I bested you on everythin' 'cept fer you figgurin' out my boys was distractin' you while I charmed Red here."

Matt fumed. This time Kitty put her hand on his shoulder preventing him from flying across the table at the cattleman. He remained seated for her sake despite wanting to send Talley with one punch through his closed office closed door onto Front Street.

"Matt, he's not worth it," she soothed, squeezing his right arm. "I don't need his money or his apology."

"Get out Talley!" Matt quietly roared. "Holden, Krieg, you're free to go," he continued in a conciliatory tone, his anger spent after taking to heart the plea he saw in Kitty's eyes. "Just remember what we agreed on," he added with a hint of menace.

Matt relished the all too infrequent times spent with Kitty alone. His mood soured as he realized he couldn't put the onerous duty of being one of 12 pallbearers off any longer. He escorted her to the Long Branch but instead of following her inside like he wanted Matt walked to his room to change clothes. He returned in time to walk with her and Doc to the church under a sky turned black and ominous. Dodge needed the rain, but not the cloudburst and possible twister the clouds threatened.

Meanwhile, Trent Wellington followed Talley. The trail boss entered the temporary hospital that was gradually returning to its original purpose only long enough to whisper to a couple of his hands that were now well enough to ride out to their camp along the river. The teen, his newly purchased pistol still on his hip, decided to remain in the saloon until after the churchyard burials. Trent was handing a cup of beef broth to Kitty's chief bartender Sam when she returned, still dry, to her establishment.

The storm threatening the mourners had held off until Moss, Jonas, Dan Spencer from the assay office and the cobbler Patch Underwood were laid to rest. Now the peels of thunder grew louder and closer together and the brightly flashing lightning bolts Trent could see through the saloon's windows were seemingly close enough to hit the dusty dirt that was Front Street. The wind was beginning to howl as well. The boy decided to remain where he was at least useful until the storm passed.

Doc, after a short stop at his office for more supplies, returned to the makeshift hospital that was the Long Branch to attend to the few wounded who weren't hale enough to withstand the short trip to either home or camp. As soon as a shovelful of dirt covered the last of the coffins Matt dispatched Thad to make the early evening rounds while he provided what comfort he could to the four dead men's wives. Having completed that unhappy task, he sought out Holden and Krieg to check on the progress they'd made toward keeping their boys in line. Talley was another matter, but without the other two outfits itching for a fight, Matt hoped the town would remain standing. At least he and Thad wouldn't have the added task of keeping the peace at the barn dance. The social celebration was cancelled.

After the late afternoon storm ended Trent returned his birthday present to himself to its hiding place and prepared for a confrontation with his father during a leisurely supper in the Dodge House dining room. He hoped cancelling the dance didn't mean an early bedtime and church upon waking like back home, leading to an anticlimactic end to an otherwise exciting birthday trip when the two boarded the Monday morning train east. His father surprised him. Wyatt accepted his son's wish to experience Saturday night in the queen of the cow towns and didn't object to him wearing the no longer secret gun.

Matt was also pleased with the turn of events. Holden and Krieg assured him their hands wouldn't be on the prod, seeking to rile the men from the other outfits, and that Talley promised them the same at least when it came to Texan against Texan. Kitty was able to push the few remaining cots containing the wounded off to the side and set up tables for faro, blackjack and poker. Sam, aided by her girls and Clem, had recovered enough to sit on a stool behind the bar to ply customers with whiskey and beer.

Maybe it was the drop in temperature following the rain that kept this August Saturday night calm. Then again folks were still feeling the effects of last night's mayhem. The bosses of the three largest outfits in town convincing their drovers to avoid fights, particularly those that led to gunplay, certainly helped. Matt didn't care about the reason as he peered over the batwing doors around midnight, scanning the room for Kitty. He spotted her talking with Festus, propped on his cot with pillows, and the boy from Chicago, still heeled, he'd come upon earlier today practicing his draw.

By the time Matt made his way through the crowd Kitty, ever the gracious hostess, had drifted to one of the occupied tables to see if the men wanted a new bottle. His eyes on his goal, he felt rather than heard the batwing doors swing open to admit another customer. However, in the split second he took to see it was only Trent's father, probably looking to convince his son it was time to turn in, everything changed. Fists wouldn't suffice. He'd have to be quicker than he'd ever been and hope Dodge City's citizens would back him up if only for Kitty's sake.


	7. Chapter 7 Aftermath

Chapter 7 – Aftermath

Tally grabbed Kitty just as his identity registered in Matt's mind. Holden and Krieg rose with him. All three preparing to draw iron as were the cowboys at three nearby tables. It looked like a worse bloodbath was brewing than the one the previous night. Matt didn't care. He focused on Tally, who was deliberately using Kitty as a shield to taunt him. The trail boss sidled toward the stairs always keeping her in front of him while everyone else except one man froze.

"This shotgun will blow you in half before you take another step," Sam stated knowing that facing Talley's back like he was he didn't have to worry about hitting his friend and boss.

Talley halted long enough for two drovers to point their side arms at the bartender. Only then did the Three Forks foreman resume his slow, seemingly inevitable progress toward the rooms upstairs. Matt, never taking his eyes off the now hated Texan, held his ground. Talley turned slightly to begin climbing the stairs, giving Matt an opening. The lawman shifted his body a quarter turn so Kitty was least likely to be hit. Then, with lightening quick reflexes, drew, aimed and fired. The Texan clutched his side, involuntarily loosening his grip on her, allowing Kitty to slip away to race towards Doc's office.

The two cowhands who'd previously held their pistols on Sam and two other Three Forks hands drew down on Matt. However, their target killed the two nearest him before they could fire their own weapons. Alas, one of the drovers near Sam met with success. He put a bullet in the marshal's left shoulder before the bartender could fire his first barrel and kill the assassin wannabe. That was all the incentive the remaining Three Forks cowhands needed. They drew their guns and fired, not caring whom they hit as long as the marshal and Sam wound up dead. They didn't reckon on Festus, from his cot, shooting one in his gun arm or Trent, sitting next to the wounded deputy, firing his newly purchased Colt. The boy incapacitated two more. Thad, racing toward the Long Branch upon hearing the first shot, felled another two of Talley's men. Sam, Festus and Trent escaped without damage but, despite the part-time deputy's timely appearance, Matt was struck by a second bullet and fell.

So far, unlike last night, this free-for-all remained between the Three Forks drovers and the marshal and his friends. The friends entered the fray solely to defend the prettiest saloon owner in Kansas and her man. The Bar K and Lazy S riders remained seated ignoring the exchange of bullets to concentrate on their drinking and gambling until the lull of three or four seconds after the first five men were hit. Then. As if on cue, they pushed their chairs back ready to join the melee on the side of Texas.

"Hold it boys!" Holden and Krieg shouted in unison while simultaneously firing their own six guns into the ceiling. "We can't afford a repeat of last night."

The two large groups of Texas cowboys sat back down. The other Long Branch customers, who'd scattered to keep out of the way of the flying lead, resumed their interrupted activities. Without the benefit of additional combatants the stalemate between the original antagonists that began with Holden and Krieg's shout remained in force until Kitty returned with Doc. It presented the man on whom the duty of keeping the peace hung heavily with an opportunity.

"Fight's over," Matt, who managed to stand with Thad's help, asserted in a strong voice that belied how badly he was hurt. "Anyone not directly involved is free to go. I'll find you if I need you."

Everyone who wasn't given a reason to remain made a beeline for the exit. Only those told explicitly to stay, the Long Branch staff, the dead, the wounded and Matt's allies held their positions. Now that he'd established control the marshal fleetingly gave into his wounds. He knew he was in bad shape. Kitty's face told him that. Matt stumbled before regaining his balance only after falling into more than sitting in the nearest chair. Only then did he confront the remainder of the crowd in hopes of ending the bloodshed that was overwhelming his town.

"Marshal, why'd you stop us from leaving with our boys?" Krieg asked. Tonight was all Talley's doin'. Him and his hands."

"Was it? You both knew Talley's plans."

"We was only helpin' a fella Texan git a gal he had his eye on. He told us you put that redheaded piece of Southern womanhood off limits when her job says she's available for the takin'. That ain't legal even under Kansas law," Holden protested.

"It's against the law in my saloon," Kitty interjected. "I'm sick of men comin' in here thinkin' my girls are here for the taking because their job is entertaining men. Have you forgotten slavery's been illegal for 13 years? The girls decide if, how and with whom they spend any private time. Their boss is more selective as to who gets anything more than a passing nod. That's how it is now and how it was when Matt knocked Talley out cold nine years ago to keep me from cutting him with broken glass if he didn't leave me alone," Kitty fumed rising to her feet.

Matt would have made a move to stop her from shaking her fist at Holden and Krieg and slapping Talley, but he realized his wounds sapped his strength too much to allow him to step between them and the angry redhead. Besides, Kitty didn't need his help putting them in their place. Seemingly reading his body language she stopped short of physically attacking them. Even so, it was time, wounded or not, he asserted his authority. Laws had been circumvented if not actually broken.

"Whatever Talley promised, fact is, you didn't help him in the end. I appreciate that so I'm tellin' you to get out of Dodge instead of jailing you. Don't give me a reason to change my mind."

Holden and Krieg didn't hang around. They'd made a good profit on their steers and the buyer had hinted the man now kicking them out of town had had something to do with how well they were paid. They'd return next year with a different attitude toward the town and its lawman. Contributing to that altered assessment was the fact only 18 of 30 Bar K and Lazy S riders were going home unscathed thanks to Talley's vendetta. That man also reassessed his position. He'd already buried three men. Five more awaited the same. Of the 20 who came up the trail with him, only eight were still healthy. He dropped his own gun to the floor and kicked it toward Matt's seat.

"Lock him and any of his men who haven't died up, Thad. Doc can tend to the wounded in jail."

"First I'll attend to you," Doc replied. "Since the Long Branch is still serving as a temporary hospital I won't wait for you to decide to come up to my office. Clem, young man, help him to a cot."

Monday morning Kitty sat beside Matt on the last remaining cot holding him down while Kitty sent Holly to his office. The wounded cowboys from the Bar K and Lazy S were riding comfortably back to Texas in each outfit's chuck wagon, their dead buried out by their former camp. Those from the Three Forks outfit who were shot Friday night were likewise buried along with last night's dead or sufficiently recovered to simply await the release of those now held in the jail, including their boss Kin Talley.

Talley was why Kitty wanted Matt to keep to his sickbed a few minutes longer. She'd refused to press charges. Talley should be on his way. The only reason he wasn't was the lawman's stubborn insistence he personally release the man after delivering a few choice words. It took a great deal of gentle persuasion but Kitty had finally convinced Matt to allow Festus, who didn't wait for Doc to declare him fit for duty, and Thad to bring Talley to the Long Branch. Matt had moved to a chair facing the door when they, followed by Holly, brought the trail boss to him.

"The law said I had to let you go last time even if we both know the beating Sam Peeples took hastened his death. Nine years later I still lack the evidence to try you for murder. Talley, get out of Dodge and don't ever come back. If you do, I just might have to kill you."

Talley, still hampered by the wound in his side, took his gun back from Festus and holstered it. He didn't need it spelled out. Matt Dillon would find a legal reason to kill him if he ever came near Kitty Russell again. He spun around on his boot heels and out the Long Branch batwing doors onto Front Street where his own outfit's chuck wagon waited to take him home to Texas.

The newly freed man brushed past Trent and Wyatt Wellington as they stepped up on the boardwalk to enter the saloon. The visitors from Chicago had but a half-hour until their eastbound train. Wyatt, having bid farewell to Nathan Burke, would have preferred to be already sitting in the depot's waiting room, but he indulged his son. The boy showed no interest in seeking out Dave Caldwell and Charlie Smith, the two boys Trent's own age he'd hope would show him the value of work, yet insisted on bidding farewell to the peace officers of this unruly excuse for a town. He understood.

"Marshal Dillon, I want to apologize for eavesdropping when you confronted those three trail bosses in your office," the lad began. "Still, I'm glad I did. I also want you to know how much I appreciated that talk we had outside town when you caught me practicin'. It gave me the courage to fire my pistol to help save your life. What I'm tryin' to say is I admire you in a way I couldn't when you were the make believe hero in my books."

"Son, I'm nobody's hero, just a man with a job. Now that you've had a taste of it, do you still want to be a lawman?"

"Nope. Pop brought me with him in hopes I'd exchange childish fantasies for reality. I have. Lawmen regularly risk death. I'd rather hunt down evidence and let someone else do most of the actual arrestin', but I'll keep my gun as a reminder of the time my life changed forever. Pop, thanks for helpin' me grow up, but I don't want to work for Adams Express either. I'm gonna apply to the Pinkerton Agency in hopes they'll take me on as an apprentice. Bye Mr. Dillon, Festus, Thad, Miss Kitty, Holly. I'll never forget any of you. Pop," he said turning toward the door. "We don't wanna miss our train."


End file.
